A Serpent is Entwined by a Serpent
by Black Ankle
Summary: A sadistic game intertwines the fate of predator and prey. And slowly, they devour one another. Barricade/Maggie. Warning: Graphic violence, sexual themes, and NC. formerly titled Endgame
1. Indecent

**Author's Note: This fic is a What If. A year ago, a few friends of mine and I ran across a ficlet with a Barricade/Maggie pairing. As we Mun those characters on the Survival Earth board, we couldn't help but think "Is that possible from our POV?" So, I set out to explore the pairing of the two and this...admittedly dark ride came about. It's not a fairy tale. It's not a happy one-shot. It's dark, it's mature, and it's brutal. If you do not like these themes, I implore you to hit the back button and don't read on. But if you do like such, then please, carry on. **

_Indecent: unacceptable and offensive to accepted standards, especially in sexual matters _

There were a lot of wonderful things Maggie Madsen was thankful for in this world. A plush job with cushy employment security, her health, pricey shoes she had a fondness for, and her quick wits. Oh and she wasn't in jail. That always put a little pep into her step. What she wasn't thankful for was the shitty transit system that continually let her down.

She'd never owned her own car, which would have been a waste when she spent so much of her time indoors lurking in front of a computer screen. Worrying about getting home at the end of the day ranked up there with lunch. She'd worry about those when she had to. By the time her brain said enough is enough, the day was late, far later than closing hours for the average joe, and she'd spent the entire day deep in data mining tool applications. She loved her job but sometimes it ate up her life.

As much as she enjoyed her profession…at odd moments her mind would muse over the alien virus she couldn't seem to forget. It had been so thrilling and surreal: studying lines of code that actually was a foreign language. On a planetary scale.

The Defense Secretary had been impressed by her "two man" team. Glen, for all his hermetic tendencies, was brilliant and while his methods were unorthodox and highly illegal at most times, he was an asset and a hero who had helped the government when it was being swiftly brought to it's knees. Which is the only reason they were not rotting in a cell.

_And rightly so. It's not every woman what can hold off a robot out for blood while in stilettos. _

Unfortunately those skills did not help her now when she was stuck waiting for a taxi. After charging into the road after a taxi yielded nothing but a cramped ankle from her cinched boots, she gave up on the city's pitiful means of transport. Public buses were not her style and neither did the monorail or subway offer much of a lure for her. She had far too much "homework" stored in her flash drives to work on at her apartment. If something untoward happened to those and she lost the information she'd be in mucho trouble.

Blowing her bangs out of her eyes with a huff, she slung her purse strap onto her shoulder and set off up the street. There were approximately seven city blocks back to her little abode. She wouldn't walk all of them, couldn't in those four inch heels she was sporting but a few blocks into the cool night wouldn't kill her. This section of the city was tame for the most part and there was always a police officer around the corner if she had real cause for alarm.

_I took on a mini robot dervish, I think I can handle walking two blocks._

The dusk air was chill against her bare legs but the steady walking rhythm kept her body warmed up enough to where she wasn't uncomfortable. Already she was thinking about her plans for the evening. She would get home, change into a scruffy pair of pajamas she'd had since business school, and sit at the kitchen table working through the algorithms applied in her work.

The night was quiet, and even if it wasn't, she wouldn't have noted the men or women on the sidewalk. Too busy picking over the structure of code, not the life around her. Which is why she missed the growing rumble behind her. Liquid black pooled beside her making her jerk to the right, away from the road. A cop car, sinister under the flickering light overhead, despite the familiar markings of law enforcement.

She hadn't done anything wrong and the thought of jaywalking in those heels was out of the question. Not that there was a lot of traffic on the street at the moment. Still, she wasn't dressed trashy so could not be mistaken for a harlot, especially in this section of town. All these thoughts were running through her mind in a systematic checklist when the passenger window rolled down on her side. Despite the sallow light above her, she couldn't see that far into the interior of the car without stepping closer. One simply did not ignore the police.

"Evening, officer. Is there something wrong?"

She kept her voice neutral and her posture straight. Maggie was attractive, she wasn't blind to this knowledge. Even in the world of codes and scientific mathematical jargon, beauty was valued. When her wits didn't get her places, her looks did. Likely she was just getting a stern warning about being out alone at night, but it didn't hurt to have sympathy on her side because she had a fair face.

The response was not expected. "Maggie Madsen. PhD in Physical Science, Business, and Math. Slaving away on binary codes, ignorant of the organic world around her. Her fifteen minutes of importance granted after decoding an alien virus."

To put it simply, she was at a loss. Who the hell was this cop and how did he know so much about her? Her involvement with the Department of Defense was classified as all matters involving the NBE's had been deemed necessary. Every surviving human had signed a non-disclosure agreement and given another stern warning to keep quiet.

Foundering where she stood, Maggie drew herself up to her full height and kept her voice calm, "Who are you?" She was neither going to confirm or deny anything he said.

Ignoring the question, the man inside the car shifted minutely. He sounded more amused than anything, his voice docile, "What draws you into the cyber world? An aversion to the real world or a search for structure and rules?"

This was not a normal police officer. No cop she'd ever ran across analyzed her while she stood on a street corner. The situation was so surreal, Maggie took a step back away from the car and turned to walk away.

"This is strange and I'm not talking to you about my life. I don't even know you." A quiet part of her shuddered at the thought of someone knowing much about her personal life. She knew how easy it was to access information on anything, Glen had shown her the wonders in that particular field.

The clicking on her heeled boots against the walkway set a harsh cadence to the rumbling purr of the engine as the car followed her and still that maddening dulcet tone coaxed at her from the side. "I know of you, Maggie Madsen. Your work, your dedication." Here the tone grew slightly deeper, "How this form of government _used_ your help then cuffed you to the side with a threat for your silence. So much for loyalty, hm?" The driver chuckled darkly, like it was all some grand joke.

She was looking at anything but the car, her pace never faltering. The words the driver spoke were puzzling and unsettling. Pointedly aimed to be so for some reason. To throw her off? Test her? Why was he saying such things to her and what was his interest in her? How did he know about her? She echoed that question to him, eyes darting to the two-toned mustang then back to the path ahead.

"Still haven't put it all together, despite the hints. Did you decode the virus by sheer, moronic luck? Focus, Madsen. Why would I know such convoluted truths about you and the one-time prostitution of yourself to the Department of Defense?"

Frowning at the car and heavily shadowed driver, she stopped and crossed her arms. The tone and derision she could overlook. So many times had she ran across men and women alike in her profession who cut with their words and supposed superior intellect. Through dogged determination she always showed them wrong and proved her worth. No, his attitude didn't phase her but his words bit deep into her metaphorical skin.

_No one would say anything. Especially Glen. Not with what's being held over our heads. And Glen and his family have a horrible relationship with the police. I don't know anyone else that would know so much about my life and the virus. Not unless they were involved or government. But he's not speaking like any official. They don't have a sense of humor. So if he's not involved with the secretary of defense or the FBI, but knows of the virus and obvious threat to National Security he would have to be…_

She stared at the Saleen, startled like a deer at the implication of her thoughts. A sudden rev of the well honed engine preceded the voice that practically purred to her. "Do the ends finally meet, Madsen?"

_No. No, no, no. This is impossible. There's no way one of THEM would be here and unnoticed. But, _her mind reminded her, _there was a war fought in two separate places and the average citizen is none the wiser…hiding in plain sight is easy when we're oblivious. _

"Why?" The question barely carried past her lips as she studied it, him. The car that wasn't a car. As to what she was asking of him, at the moment she wasn't sure. _Why here? Why now? Why me? Why, why, why?_

Instead of answering, the passenger door clicked open and swung towards her. "Get in."

The weirdness of the situation spooked her like a skittish foal. She wouldn't pretend that she wasn't curious about the NBE's but her involvement with them ended in the dam. It wasn't her place to deal with them. She had neither the learning or the security clearance to interact with alien beings. Shaking her head she stepped back from the car and temptation to sink further into the mystique he was offering. "Ah no. You're one of _them_. Out of the question."

There was no pause, just a smooth rumble of the machine. "Yes, I am. But is this necessarily a bad thing?"

Indeed, was it a bad thing? She had no way of knowing if he was offering nothing more than the chance to speak one-on-one, trading views from both races. What she knew of these beings could fill a thimble. But her one time encounter had been thrilling in the way of a horror movie. Shifting her weight to her other foot with a slight roll of her hips, Maggie tried not to let her unease show. The urge to cross her arms defensively across her middle was almost overwhelming while she stood under this machine's scrutiny.

Breaking through her internal conflict of interests, he spoke again, "How quickly did you leap to the chance to work with your government for the promise of _nothing _in return but the taste of something larger than yourself? And now you throw away an experience the like of which none of your fellow flesh creatures will ever have in their limited life spans…"

He was digging at her reserve and she knew it but couldn't help the curiosity that blossomed like a sickened flower in her mind. But could she be so foolish? _Right, climb into one of them and for what? Idle curiosity? _She, as a mere citizen was not supposed to know anything about them. And she wouldn't have if not for a twist of fate and timing. But here, now she was being offered something more. Oh, she did want to know all about them and that curious language of theirs. Well aware was Maggie that while her mind was limited to this carbon body, _their _minds were machines steeped in cool logic. They had infinite wisdom next to her PhD's. How tempting…

Paralyzed by indecision, Maggie plucked at the strap to her purse. What goaded her next was the voice that had seemed softer before, now with an edge of impatience coloring the tone with a metallic edge. "Get in, or walk away. I won't ask again."

She almost did walk away. Her foot slid along the path and her weight shifted forward to carry her back to her apartment, to her sane and safe life. But her mind, that devious matter lurking behind her pretty face, reveled in the memory of the virus. The sheer crippling power of it, the fluidity and ease in which it wreaked havoc.

The engine revved again and he pulled away from the curb, away from her and her internal flailing indecision. Grimacing at herself, him, the whole situation she couldn't walk away from, she stalked after him with her hand raised as if to hail a taxi.

"Wait!"

He made her follow for two more steps before stopping and flinging open the door, almost hitting her. The last flicker of doubt evaporated under a flare of irritation. The bastard was toying with her like a stupid kid. Smoothing her skirt against her legs, she ducked into the offered opening and tucked her legs inside, mindful of her heels against the interior. Smoothing a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, she realized she was sitting inside a sentient car and didn't even know his name. And the driver from before was gone, the inside spotless and empty, smelling like a brand new and unused car.

"You know my name, but never told me yours." There, the invitation was out and she didn't have to pose annoying questions as he was obviously impatient. Tampering the little worm of doubt curling in her stomach, she waited for his response.

"Very astute of you."

_How…annoying. _She had to close her mouth to not say anything to him along the lines of a reprimand. So he thought he was being coy. Who cares? She would wait him out with patience.

Once all of her limbs were inside, the door swung shut without her help. From everywhere in the interior the voice, roughened by proximity or some hidden feeling, grated out, "Barricade."

His name was not a name. It was an obstruction, a force and coupled with the metallic grind that was his vocalization, Maggie's doubts returned full force. She'd made a mistake! This was not right, _he _wasn't right. The attitude, the finessing, all used against her now didn't seem coyness. He'd handled her.

The clicking locks had the finality of a hammer striking a bullet and couldn't stop her hand from reaching for the door handle. Far too late for that as evidenced by them peeling away from the corner with a squall of rubber on asphalt.

Trying to keep the rapid flitter of her heart under control, she licked her lips and wracked her brain. _How do I get out of this? What does he want with me?_ Any questions she volleyed at him would be met with that disdain and ignored or twisted around. She knew this with the same sick intensity that she knew he did not have a joy ride in mind.

The roads he traveled did not lead to her apartment, but she hadn't expected them to. They led to a seedier section of town that had her shifting uneasily in the hard, leather seats. Not even in a cop car did she feel safe here, especially this one…

"Nervous, Madsen?"

She was beginning to hate that hard voice that peeled away at her insides and looked for everything that made her feel defenseless. Oh, why had she gotten inside? Smoothing her skirt over her legs, she looked out the side window and feigned calm, "What do you want me to say?"

"Left to your own devices, I'm sure you will say what you want." He sounded ornery about that. His entire attitude toward her seemed to be growing worse by the second. The front he had presented to her was just that, a guise she'd been to silly headed to see for what it was.

Whenever they passed anyone on the sidewalk, they shrank away from the familiar markings of law enforcement. A hooker melted into the shadows of the night away from the lamp she had been displaying her worn body under. Maggie felt a flicker of pity for the woman.

Idling at the corner, the Interceptor seemed to be regarding the area and her with a heavy intensity that she could almost feel. Again her fingers crept for the door handle but she stopped herself from trying to fling open the door. It would have been foolish to try and possibly would have angered him.

Pulling away from the corner with a healthy snarl of the engine, Barricade drove them deeper down the dirty side streets where no sane person of Maggie's status should be. She kept still in the seat but her eyes swept the surrounding area with apprehension. Through the curtain of her blond hair, her gaze took in the looming buildings, most abandoned or just settled in desolation. This was an avenue of broken glass and shattered lives. This was a straight line to hell he was driving her down.

In the middle of the road, which could very well be the perfect center of the alley he stopped and idled as quietly as the V8 could. The purr of his engine bounced off the walls and sounded like thunder to her overly keen senses. She wanted out of him, out of there, and to be away from this maddening sound. Instead of showing the fluttering trepidation, she calmly sat and waited for him to make the next move.

The metallic wrench of his voice in the gloom made her jump, "Take off your clothes."

Flabbergasted, she could only stare at his dashboard in silent denial. How could this be happening? She didn't want to be tossed out, without her clothes, in the darkened streets here of all places. She would become another statistic.

Clutching at her skirt like he was going to pull it off of her, Maggie shook her head, "No…I couldn't."

"This is not a request, _Maggie_." She flinched when he used her name with such familiarity, formality dropped just for the occasion.

Scrounging up pitiful resources to argue against him she fought to keep her voice from climbing an octave. "But why?"

"If you can prostitute yourself for your country, then you can return the favor to me. This is a lesson, _sweetling_."

Her heart felt like it had climbed into her throat to lodge and beat out a sickening rhythm to the evening. The thought of removing her clothes and having her skin touching the…interior of this sentient car made her insides squirm. Licking her trembling lips, she rasped out, "Don't make me do this."

"_Now._"

So many unspoken threats were jammed into that order. There was no _hint_ of violence, it was broadcasted loud and clear. They both knew what he was, though she had no inkling of what he could do. The unknown was a better persuader then the known facts and first hand accounts with his "brethren". Cheeks tinting a soft rose in the sallow glow of the street lamp, Maggie reached for her shirt with shaking fingers.

Her thought pattern was a broken staccato of why's and silent pleas for this evening to end. Her skin wasn't even exposed and already she felt cheap. Maggie knew cheap, knew the approximate value of anything at a glance as only a life spent scrimping and saving could garner such a talent. Barricade was not cheap. In actions, body frame, or words. _She _was not inferior either, but he was making her so.

Unbuttoning the white shirt and easing it down her shoulders was agony for her. The thin material wasn't armor and offered no physical protection but it stripped away her mental defenses leaving the skin raw and cold. She balked at removing her bra, the lacey article offering a paltry amount of coverage. The city shorts followed, sliding over her shaking thighs. When she had to lean against him to lever herself up to free the pants from her hips, she half expected him to say something to her but he was silent throughout. That too joined the shirt on the floorboard with her purse.

The air was cold on her breasts when she loosened the small clasps and let the garment fall to her lap. Covering herself with one arm, she laid that aside too with a small, mournful look. Only one small scrap of lace kept her from complete humiliation. Here, she stopped, a delicate hand tipped with manicured nails hovered over her most intimate area nestled between her thighs. She mustered as much dignity as she could despite feeling so small, "Please, let me keep this."

Barely was the plea past her lips when the snarl of the engine, of him, filled the alleyway with the healthy whine of a super-tuned V8 making her cringe into herself on the seat. Once generous warning was all she was getting and she wasn't stupid enough to over look the gesture for what it was. Tears burned in her throat and sinuses but she wouldn't give him that reward, she wouldn't let him see her cry. Breath catching in pent-up remorse, she pushed herself back against the soft leather and slowly slid off the small pair of panties till they too piled neatly on the floorboards with the rest of her clothing.

Sitting completely bare on the bucket seats, Maggie looked out the side window and concentrated on breathing calmly when all she wanted was to run away from this mess. She dreaded what could come next and when he spoke, his rough voice filling the interior of the car, she jerked at the baritone, "Touch yourself."

All fear, all thoughts stopped at a dead stand still as the world threatened to crush her because she was _not_ hearing him properly. He couldn't, just _couldn't _be asking that_. _"W-what?"

"You are trying my limited patience, fleshling…" Even though he purred the words, there was that awful malevolent intent threaded through the sentence. And still she had trouble doing as he asked. It was against her very nature, it was against everything sane and wholesome, it was wrong!

Perhaps if she stalled… "How should I touch myself?" The words burned hot and bitter in her throat.

Abruptly the seat slammed back, causing her to cry out in pure panic as her view altered from the brick building outside to the interior roof. She hugged herself, nails digging into her arms and refused to shake in fear, absolutely refused. Too afraid of what he would do next, since it was obvious he had control inside, she loosened her clenched fingers and ran a hand sloppily over her chest.

"For one so used to whoring herself out for her "country", you are not worth the money printed on paper." He sounded so amused, engine rumbling in what could be mistaken as a chuckle that had her teeth on edge in helpless frustration. She deigned not to reply, nothing she said would make this any better. Her spirits sank further when he said, "But do go on."

Forcing every thought, nuance of emotion from herself, she slipped a hand over her chest again, skirting just shy of her breasts with each pass. Her hand would dip as low as her navel before trailing back up to her sternum. If she closed her eyes and ignored the scent of clean leather, the sound of idling engine, the cramped feel of the interior, the touches were almost soothing and familiar.

Slowly the touches turned softer across her skin as she evened her breathing and focused inward. The dip, sway, and swirl of her fingertips over her skin felt nice and she didn't think of the wretched state she was in, but the warmth of her skin, the tan glow. Turning her face up, through her closed eyes she could sense the light from the streetlamp overhead but the sullen ambience was changed to peach behind her eyelids. Focusing so intensely on this tiny moment of inner peace, she missed the engine shutting off until the faint purring vibrations stopped underneath her. The golden mood faded to black and she was afraid once more. Her hands stopped roaming as she lay half on her side facing the door and freedom that was entirely too far away and fragile.

"Go on."

_I don't want to…_

Maggie breathed out slowly and willed her hands to keep moving though she couldn't recapture that small moment of peace she'd had. Her own hands felt foreign to her and her breathe stuttered at the next order, "_Lower_."

She'd had not hopes this would end well when he'd asked her to take her clothes off but going on was like plunging a knife deeper into her insides. Prickly disgust and dread pooled in her chest pressing thickly against her lungs. As ordered, her hands moved lower, brushing over her hips and navel, skirting over her thighs with a tiny scratch of her fingernails.

Chuckling, soft amusement in that guttural, raw voice Barricade said, "So coy when we know what you are. Those hands have taken pleasure across your flesh before; don't be modest for me. Tease yourself, touch, finger-fuck yourself into a frenzy. Let yourself go, _Maggie_. It'll be our little secret." Her fingernails dug into her thighs as he continued with that coaxing lilt that did not fit his voice quite right, and yet did, "Because if you don't, I will rip you to pieces and discard you in the dirty streets."

Biting back a sudden sob that bubbled in her throat, she whimpered inaudibly and forced that biting injustice of it all down. She'd do as he said, but she wouldn't break for him, wouldn't cower like a kicked dog. He wanted her to feel like trash, but she'd show him. She was not cheap, or dirty, or nothing-no matter the hold he temporarily had over her. She would not be ashamed.

Fingers dipped inward and she teased herself mechanically for him, the practiced movements bringing no pleasure whatsoever at first. Every nuance of arousal died quickly as she tried to bring herself to excitement but the mind balked even if the body was willing. The faint purring of the engine returned, sinking into her bones through the seat and she thought that if she lived, she'd never be able to feel or smell leather without growing sick. Settling back further into the backrest, she tried harder to get this over with, get this done. _Appease the beast and I can leave…_

In her focused intent, her body surprised her by pulling a small gasp from her tightly clenched mouth when her thumb circled just right in a small stroke. It was now she realized how harsh her breathing had grown, how taught her body had become, tension shuddering through her thighs and hips. Eyes fluttering open, her fingers still immediately as a shadow fell against the wall beside the car. Cheeks already growing warm from the attentions put upon herself, she watched with outright horror as a man, some vagrant stumbled down the alleyway so very close to the car and the windows. Her hand was still tucked between her legs, the other poised under a breast delicately and this stranger was not even a foot away, peering into the car as he moved by.

Before she could remove her hands from her flesh in humiliation, his voice _purred _right in her ear, like a lover, "He can't see you."

She jerked her head around so hard to look behind her that her hair fell over her face in a twisted curtain. Nothing about the interior had changed. But how had he moved so close, whispered into her ear? She could have sworn she had felt the caress of words across her skin…Why was he being so deceptively soft to her now?

A small rev of the engine was a sign to continue and her hands continued their motions, trying to coax feeling back into the delicate skin. It was so much easier to continue this sick game when her eyes were shut tight. Hand grasping at the seat, nails digging into the plush leather, she bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut. _I'm not here. I'm far away. Not here, not here. Not like this._

Again that maddening voice _growled_ in her ear making the hairs along the nape of her neck stand up, "Don't ignore me. Open your eyes."

Shuddering, she pushed her face away from the seat and opened her eyes, flushing deeply in shame for the first time. She was aroused and hated the quivering tension building inside. Hated that her body wanted to reach it's peak, that familiar bolt of feeling that cleaved every doubt, every negative feeling in two and made the body and brain forget themselves.

Jerking her hips at the slow buildup, a movement she couldn't help, Maggie's eyes watered and streams of shameful tears slid down her cheeks. She couldn't pretend not be humiliated by this. He was privy to one of the most innermost secrets a woman had of herself. He was learning everything about her, how her body quivered with each caress, the liquid arch of her back, the roll of her hips, the breathy sound of pent up need. Things _he_ should not know.

It was so quiet in the Saleen, like all focus was on her. The only sound was a faint purring raising in susurrations, a faint creaking of metal on tense metal, the slick-wet slide of flesh, and her mewling breath. She was begging for something she wasn't even sure of anymore. Leniency, mercy, hope, release of all kinds?

Shuddering in shame and revulsion, Maggie climaxed with a harsh jerk, back arching and her hips bucking into her own hand. Mouth poised is a small moue of shock as the nerves sent a small pulse of pure pleasure through her body from her center out; she wished she could concentrate on that carnal delight and forget about where she was, why she'd been forced to do this. Instead of feeling sated, hollowness followed the tingling as it faded from her limbs. Her cheeks were damp and tears dripped from her chin onto the leather seats as she sat up and hugged herself; one bitter sob forced out.

Barricade shuddered around her, engine turning over briefly as a wash of electrical pulse flared inside and out, through her. She jerked and scrambled back in the seat at the sensation, so utterly foreign and unwelcome to her. Begging was all she had left, but even now she couldn't. She _asked_, "Please. Let me go."

He sounded strained for just the faintest of moments, like he too had been brought to a limit, before his voice regained it's monstrous baritone of razor blades and steel, "Strip away all your clothes, all y our defenses, all your _pride_ and this is what is left. Mindless animals."

Drawing herself up, lower lip trembling in indignation, fear, loathing-all were coursing under her flushed skin. She said with as much force as she could muster, "You can't break me. _Fuck you."_

They both knew she wasn't speaking about her fragile body. The silence lay heavy between them as she waited for a snarl of anger, a warning growl, something to herald her death as he ripped her apart. He finally reacted. Rocking back on his tires, he _laughed._ It was harsh, like an electric line dancing across metal in a rasp-but it was still a laugh. No mistaking the gesture.

"That, you already did, _Miss _Madsen."

Oh so aware of her nudity and the dampness between her legs, the cool leather under her, all a never ending reminder of her shame. She still held herself up straight, spine erect. "Not so different, then. If you're drawing off the weaker, for your kinks. But I am not mindless prey."

Her mind was running through a gambit of what she couldn't and could say to him. What he would use and what he could exploit. Pride was a defense but also a target. Confidence built was easily a lure to attack when it could be used as a shield. Playing this verbal and mental dance with him, she slowly pushed away the humiliation to pick over later in the dark of night when his voice grated across her skin like a phantom touch, shredding her senses and leaving them raw and exposed. Then she would _hurt._

"I am far more then you'll ever be, maggot. Put your clothing back on and get out." He sounded trite over her now. He'd had his fun and she wasn't going to argue with him about what he was.

Fumbling into her clothes, she gritted her teeth as her panties slid over her moist thighs and shoved the rest of the coverings on; could not get the clothes on fast enough. How long would she have to wait to be able to meet her own reflection, bare fleshed, in front of a mirror without finding a hint of cowed humiliation? All because of him.

The door was unlocked and she scrambled out, heels sliding in the wet street. No matter the location, the questionable people around, the danger, anything was better than being near him. Before she could flee from his side, an arm reached out of the car and grabbed her wrist in a bruising grip. She screamed and stumbled, looking at…at the driver from before, sitting in the passenger seat of the police interceptor. Red eyes, glowing like human eyes shouldn't, watched her amusedly with predatory mischief.

"Don't let me catch you around this neighborhood again, _Miss Madsen_." A lingering caress of his thumb over her pulse point and then he was gone. The man fading into nothingness as the car pulled away with a harsh squall of the tires.


	2. Illicit

_**Author's Note: This chapter (as hard as it was to write, and IT WAS) was co-written with the lovely authoress: The Feesh. You may know her from Collision. She played the part of Barricade and she plays that part well. **_

_Illicit: considered wrong or unacceptable by prevailing social customs or standards _

The rhythmic thrusting and slide of sweat-slick skin on skin lulled her into distraction. Teeth catching a tender earlobe, she bit down hard and urged him into a faster and _rougher _pace. There was something nibbling at the back of her mind, some dark presence she had to out run in her race to pleasure. His pelvis slammed into hers and the resulting pain and pleasure made her gasp out loud in a wordless exclamation. Roaming hands moved restlessly as they clawed and pawed for that one sickly sweet moment of ecstasy that was just out of reach but near, so near.

Flexing hips pushed him deeper into her and she groaned; head lolling back as sweat slid in rivulets down her neck and caught in the collar of her throat. His tongue soon traced those trails away, leaving a sheen of saliva behind. _This. This is good, _she thought. Sentiency was waning in the build up of orgasm, but her thoughts still fluttered erratically and uncaught behind the flood of hormones.

The room was filled with the sounds and scent of their joining. Primal and rough, they groaned and panted against each other. The sheets were twisted around her hips as his weight pushed her into the bedding. It had been entirely too long since she'd tried this again. So long and God, how she had _wanted_ and feared… But it was alright. It was good. Hell, it was great! She felt complete for once. Full of him and attention and-

"Come for me."

Maggie froze. Everything inside felt like a switch had been flipped. Shame pushed out elation. The delicious warmth inside her middle felt too hot now. He took her squirming for appreciation until she couldn't take anymore of that pull and slide inside.

"Stop. Stop! Get off of me!" Shoving him away, she gritted her teeth at the _feel _of his withdrawal and fought the urge to be sick. Stumbling towards the bathroom she leaned against the door and ignored the man's questions until she could take a normal breath. "I'm sorry…" Her cheek against the door, she could almost feel him from the other side and missed his warmth and those soft hands that had brought her almost into bliss…

Almost.

But _he_ had ruined it for her again. His voice had slid right over her lover's and she'd been brought back to that night. Barricade was a faceless presence always lurking and ruining her from the inside out. Embarrassment colored her cheeks as she cleaned herself off and shoved on her clothes. Muttered excuses (on top of so many she'd made in the past six months to friends, lovers) were given as she fled the apartment.

The walk along the sidewalk into the chilled evening was hampered by her tingling legs. Part of her body was still in the throes of that moment while her mind protested mightily against any supple mercies. _Why can't I just…feel nice?_

But she couldn't just let herself go. That one night had been haunting her thoughts since the moment she'd stepped foot outside the Saleen's cab. The flight home was lost in her memories but all too well did she remember every _second _inside that damn car. Every horrible word, the touching, that goddamn voice grating inside her senses and teasing her ears. Freedom from him seemed so intangible and all she wanted was to live and have a normal healthy life. Because this existence, it was anything but.

Home felt so far away even when she walked through the familiar doors. She could feel him out there, through the glass; invading the sanctity that was her apartment. She swore she was nuts at first. Too much stress from the violation. Always seeing shapes there at the fringe of her vision. He couldn't really be watching her, could he? Why would he? She was just a minor moments of torment for him. A moment of fun. Nothing in the depth of events their lives hinged on. A hidden wars lonesome beast in enemy territory and he chose to _toy_ with her. It made no sense.

Yet, he was there, always there in her shadows. She could feel him with every drum beat of her heart and little spike of fear nettled in her brain. A dark car always just down the road or around the corner and she grew haggard and drawn waiting for that sickening voice to finally confirm her fears. But it never happened until she was so desperately wanting.

She began to purposely pursue the shadows and half-seen glimpses from the corner of her eyes, like a lost child searching for solace. He was anything but. Stumbling through the dark streets at night, she wandered around like a vagrant trying to draw him out but he couldn't be lured. Not like she could be. During this time he became something mythic in her mind, some omnipotent force that couldn't be reached but always felt.

_He is the devil incarnate._

Time took its heavy toll on Maggie Madsen in a way that nothing else could. Barricade remained a phantom stalker, always there but never corporal enough to prove her fears. And that was just how he wanted it; she knew. What she didn't know was who to turn to and what to tell them. He hadn't done anything to her, not in a physical sense. But he violated her in a mental sense. Worse part was not knowing who to confide in. She was so shamed for being lulled into that mess.

As happenstance would have it, she would have continued in her isolated mental torment, if not for the unexpected arrival of a certain Weapons Specialist. She hadn't seen any of the Autobots since the chaotic week after the battle for the Allspark. She had more to offer Secretary Keller than the leader of the Bots and his closest counsel. Still, Maggie never forgot a face and it was certainly impossible to forget their forms. She'd met them all so briefly, had a quick, "thank you" and was sent on her way with their names on her tongue.

Ironhide hadn't meant an especially great deal to her. She just remembered him as the large truck with a gruff manner but then they all seemed so worn around the edges by then. His visit into her town was purely on business of course. He was trailing his leader like a faithful watchdog with a short leash. The odds that Maggie ran into him on the street and he recognized her was a million to one.

The normally effervescent blond was a natural, if not often to the point, conversationalist. But her vitality was long gone. Barricade had consumed it like a parasite. A creature of details and habit, Ironhide bluntly commented on her demeanor's one-eighty, "Somethin' is eating at you, girl. What is it?"

Perhaps it was desperate longing, but Maggie wanted to hear real protection in his voice. She wanted a hero to save her, to slay her dragon. But it couldn't be. Her dragon didn't sink his teeth into her or prey on her flesh. Just the once and that memory burned acidly in her belly and made her tongue cramp. She would _never_ speak of it.

Words pulled from her pinched mouth, "Just unwanted attention. Guy can't take a No." She tried laughing but it sounded like a sob to her. No telling what it sounded like to him.

If a truck could shrug, he did, shifting on his axles. "Seems to be you ain't sayin it the right way." Then it occurred to her that she never had said no. She'd given a feeble attempt on her innocence's part but had known from the second she'd sat in that cab that there wasn't a "no." Barricade goaded her with self preservation and had never given her a fair chance to choose. Do or death. And now, well, she never had a say in what he wanted of her so why couldn't he do what he pleased?

Tears thick in her sinuses, she answered the Topkick, "I don't know what to do." For one brief minute, she allowed herself to weaken, to crack that emotional armor and laid her head against Ironhide's firm seats. Oh so bitterly she was reminded of supple leather interior of the Saleen and whispered words so rancid, they ate at her insides. Even seeking comfort, she could not be reached.

Ironhide's rumbling drawl did not soothe like it should have, "What has you so upset?"

_What, not who…If I tell him he can make the pain go away. He can stop him. But can he really? What if he can't believe me or worse, can't do anything? Then he'll know and he'll find me and he'll hurt me like he wants to. Why doesn't he just do so? Just let it stop, please…_

In the end, Barricade hobbled her so easily by not actively lifting a finger. A heavy sigh and she drew her deteriorating armor back around her like a mantle and sat up, "How do you stop something bigger than you?"

"Make yourself bigger."

"I'm five-foot-seven and made of flesh, Ironhide." A small slip, noticed.

"…smarter than you?"

"Oh, yes."

"Even the battle ground," something dark deepened his gravely growl, "can't pick your enemy, pick the fight and cheat."

"What if the…rules are already set?" But not by her. She was pushed into this sick game without a hand guide or extra lives.

"Forget the rules. There's no gallantry in war. No discipline in winnin'. That comes later after the dust and smoke settle. That's for the likes that ain't in the battle up to their afts and survivin' by skill." His tone softened somewhat and Maggie thought she heard something heavy in the tone, "You can't win. You ain't a fighter, you're a survivor. But you won't quite, will you?"

"I can't," she gritted out. It was too personal, too far gone. As Barricade had made it so.

"Then you get what you can and to hell with the rest." In those words she could feel the frustration she unwittingly had given to him and didn't like herself anymore for it. _It's not your fight, it's mine. I'm sorry._

Her throat was tight and raw from fear of what she must do, "I need one small thing…to protect myself." She had no doubt Ironhide saw through the lie so easily, but he didn't dispute her or turn her request away. Maggie was at her limit and one way or another, she would not sit idly. Not anymore. This was no way to live; in constant fear and waiting for an end that wouldn't come.

He left her then, on the street where he'd found her. The goodbye was short and gruff and didn't betray regret or frustration that both were drowning in. Maggie more so than he. Her head was barely above water as she drifted through the morass of waiting.

In the time it took the Weapon's Specialist to deliver what she needed, she had started to turn the game slowly in her favor. The foundation was temporarily back under her with the promise of what was to come. Her mind straightened out and she could focus. No longer did she wake up in the dead of night with a small scream paralyzing her throat. She didn't watch over her shoulder on the streets. She didn't have to. He was there, she could feel it. But she no longer acted the kicked dog waiting for the next blow.

Not to say she was healed fully. A brittle wall was wrapped around her in defense to keep the bad out and the sickness in. The renewal of spirit was temporary and hinged on the single promise that she would have her revenge. She would _get him back_. If that promise threatened to break, then the helpless feeling closed in on her and she couldn't find her way once more. So she focused on the Plan. Making the Plan. Soon she would execute the Plan. And it all started with a charade.

The problem was that Maggie couldn't pinpoint where Barricade was. Not at any part of the day did she know if he was there in her shadows or not. She could _feel_ the oppressive weight of being watched daily. _What if it's my imagination? What if I'm just crazy and he was never there after that night? That I've been running from shadows…_Horrible thoughts she wanted to believe in more than what her gut instinct was telling her. That she wasn't crazy and that she was being stalked because he wouldn't let it go.

She played normality so easily it was almost like nothing had happened to her. With her colleagues she bantered and smiled, even if the gesture never reached her dead eyes. She went on dates, she ate normal meals, she explored the city, she _lived_. Even if it was all an act and temporary, it was more life and spunk than she'd shown for the better part of the year. And she hoped it vexed him. This new spirit breathed into her; she hoped that lured him out into acting.

_Come to me…crush out this defiance._

Because at night, it was another thing. The collected demeanor fell away and the frantic woman planned and schemed and tore over blueprints. She abused her resources at work and slept less than she ever had in her life as she _figured it out._ She had him, she had the son-of-a-bitch at long last. She was ready.

As it happened, he slipped up for once. So stealthy and silent, cunning and cruel; chance happenstance gave him away. She stood in on the steps to her building and caught his reflection in the glass. Something he couldn't change or predict. He was a block away but the angle was just right, the light was perfect to undoing his deceptions. The numbers on his side did not lie. Catching her breath at the sight of him, of confirmation she needed so desperately, she stumbled backwards off of the step away from the distorted image.

_Now. Now is the time. Tonight I get you!_ She let him see how shook up she was, let him drink up the sight before visibly shaking it off. With calm aplomb she left her work and scampered home, hoping he followed. It took her moments to grab the backpack she needed before leaving her home for the evening, not expecting to see it again.

The air was cold and dank as she traversed on foot through the city, hurrying to her safe haven. Through the deserted streets, the very faint sounds of a engine paced her. If she was to be hunted, so be it. She relished the challenge and the chance to prove herself, to prove that she wasn't just a mindless animal.

Her feet traced her way back to the disappointingly empty car garage in the bowls of the junkyard. It wreaked of rusting metal and rotting sewage. _Fitting for the both of us…_ The empty building echoed her tennis shoes on the bare cement back at her as she found her place in the dark building. Enough sallow light from the streetlights outside leaked through the windows to allow her the chance to shrug off the backpack and dig for her armor. Her hands shook and crouched over the nylon bag, stationary for once, she started to shake with dread and fear. Panting like a dog, shallow uneven breaths, she desperately wondered where her strength went.

_I can't…do this…I can't…No. No mistakes. No turning back. I have to do this. No mistakes or it'll end in pain. Pain, pain, pa-_

"I hear you…_Maggie_."

His voice, so loud and dominating in the gloom struck her like a physical blow and she was on her feet, lungs frozen and body stiff. He was there! He had followed her like a predator stalking wounded prey. She had known he would be, but oh how she wanted to just be wrong for once. Her cold fingers tightened over the object in her hands in desperate assurance that she wasn't so fragile, so easily bested. That she had a chance.

Feeling the cool metal, warming in the palms of her hands, her resolve returned in shaky stages until anger took root. Gritting her teeth at the thought of that bastard saying her name like he had the right to, she grit out in the gloom, "Over here, you sick fuck." _Just move closer…_

Then he was in sight and Maggie knew she wasn't going to outmatch him or outlive him. She'd never seen him in his bipedal mode before and he…absolutely terrified her. She wasn't strong enough or wise enough. He was so much stronger than her but…in light of this, she didn't care to be afraid but couldn't shake off the mix of feelings and instincts that made her do so.

"Tsk, tsk my sweet…it's almost as if you _want_ me to find you."

She wanted to _kill_ him for using a pet name. Because she wasn't his pet, she wasn't his toy. Shaking her head so violently that blonde waves slapped her cheeks and neck, she muttered, "I hate you."

He tested the air, vents huffing and sniffing like a wolf, as he closed in on her. Her heart was pounding so hard it _hurt_ but anger absolutely boiled in her blood as he said, "Too bad, I quite like you…Care for another go in my cab perhaps? You enjoyed it so very much last time…"

That…hurt more than anything he'd ever done to her so far. She made a soft sound in the gloom too quiet for anyone but him to hear. But she had no doubts he drank in that sound. Well, no matter his verbal strikes…she lashed out at the rig near her foot and with a deafening clang, the garage doors crashed down behind them, loosened from the pulley's hold. The doors were heavily reinforced to keep out thieves…but it kept the both of them secure in their little prison.

Barricade whirled around to follow the cords back to the doors that enclosed them into the smaller space and Maggie was heartened to see him thrown off balance for once. His voice betrayed nothing, "Now what is this, _Maggie_?"

With a calm she didn't think she had, she stepped out of her tiny hiding spot behind a few packing crates and stood before him looking like a delicate doll. The weapon in her arms was completely at odds with her fragile demeanor. Grip tightening on the gun, she leveled the sights at him, weapon snug against her shoulder, and said in a resolute and grim voice, "Payback." She'd had a shaky, crash-course in the weapon's use and new how to fire it. Not nearly an expert, but she wasn't holding a foreign object in her white-knuckled grip.

"Sabot. Gutsy of you, Little Maggie. And…now you believe you will kill me in the name of revenge…correct?" Murderous, red optics scanned her and the weapon with a nasty grin. He didn't seem surprised over her choice of armory. Shifting into a sitting position, she continued to watch him with predatory intensity, that unnerving mockery of a grin on his face.

Swallowing rising bile, Maggie wanted to cower but was too goddamned caught up in this to stop. She wanted him to feel something like what she felt if only for a moment. Just to hurt him back, to make him bleed inside. But she was afraid she wouldn't have what it would take…

Drawing in a deep breath, squaring her stance, she retained the charade of her charismatic former self. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to give you the same opportunity you gave me on that night. Or I will put these rounds through your face and improve the look of it."

That gave him half a moments pause before he bulled over her words and leaned forward, crowding her space and testing her defiance. "How many rounds do you have? How many _chances _did you give yourself?"

Tightening her finger over the trigger with every inch he invaded her space, she grated out, "Back off. One round in your eyes will severely damage you. Two rounds will devastate. Third, I go for the chest and that fragile pulse hidden inside." Now she was walking a deadly line. To prove her abilities to him, who doubted her even having any to take care of herself. His contempt of her was so thick it choked the air around them. She was weeping inside, so terrified of him and his voice that cut her mind to pieces but she wouldn't bow down.

He chuckled, the sound like granite grating against stone, "And how do you know, pretty _Maggie?_"

Snarling her hate and unease, her accent thickened with stress, "Enough talk. Touch yourself or I amuse myself with hurting you. That sounds familiar, doesn't it?" She wanted this to end now, not start all over again. But there was no start or finish point. Just an ouroboros that devoured itself; as _they_ devoured themselves.

"And what makes you think my species is affected by such menial reactions as sexual pleasure, hm? Is that not a chemical response?" His grin sharpened and showed more shark's teeth. Broken red glass in the light of his optics.

"I know a sexual sadist when I see one. _You _took great…" her mouth worked for a moment over the words that didn't want to be spoken, "…_delight_ that night. Making me do that. I know. So shut up and fuck yourself!" Her finger pulled on the trigger hard enough to creak but just enough not to fire off a shot. One small twitch…

Chuckling, Barricade looked away from her to regard the ceiling above them, the walls. Everything but her. And even though he sounded so aloof, his armor so cold and cool, Maggie got an inkling he was anything but inside. Where was the sharp retort? The answer to the challenge? He was no longer pushing her space or testing just yet. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she had finally chiseled a small crack into his armor.

Softly, deadly soft, she sought his attention, "You won't get a warning shot." She aimed for his chest since it was the largest target and somewhere in there was the spark chamber. "Now."

"And what pleasure will you derive, hm?" Now she knew he was stalling. He didn't strike her as one to fill up the quiet with empty words, but he was sure doing so now. Methodical mind of a monster working on how to get out of this.

"Sick satisfaction?"

Snorting, he heaved himself up on all fours since the ceiling was too low to allow his full height, something she hadn't intended, but it was a bonus. Again, that dark chuckle, "You do not sound convinced. I will tell you what, open the doors and you will be allowed to live tonight."

A unhinged cackle built in her mind as she lowered the gun. _You just don't get it, do you?_ She calmly aimed for one leg and fired a shot after bracing for the recoil and the report boomed loudly in the small space. He noted the change in aim and jerked the leg up and out of the way. She ignored his hateful hiss.

"Only so much room to dodge in here. Next time you will not be so lucky." In spite of the overwhelming hatred and sheer size of him near her, the fact that she was _pissing _him off something fierce, a steely resolve was settling over her. Maybe she was mad. Mad Maggie.

"Impudent _brat_." He muttered a mix of sounds and language she wasn't familiar with, nor cared about.

Instead, it made her delighted! She cackled, the sound unhealthy and echoing in the small room. She was getting to him, she was making him see!

Again he sat, back straight and regarded her, "Very well, then. _Maggie._" He didn't look as if he was giving in or giving up any freedom but she didn't expect him to.

"By all means, fuck yourself into a frenzy. Isn't that what you told me?" How could the words be so easier to say when she threw them back in his ugly face?

The red light bleeding from his optics shifted along the floor as he rolled them in a wholly human gesture. She wondered if he had picked that up from her race and if he was aware that he had. Armor flattening with a soft rustle of metal on metal, he answered her, "And by doing this, my lovely toy, you only bring a worse fate than death on your head." The threat, said so casually, was followed by a shrug as he seemingly ignored her and shifted attention to his chest. Before her eyes he bared a strange looking panel.

She couldn't be sure who was in charge anymore. As her anxiety grew, it reflected in her body. Her eyes were owlishly large and her stance too rigid. She watched him like a hawk, hands clenched around the gun and starting to cramp. Reaching the limit of her wellspring for tension and knowing it, she couldn't undo this sick process. She was committed and wanted to see him bare himself like he'd made her.

As if to convince herself, she muttered, "I'm not the toy right now…"

"Neither am I. Do trust me on that." He smirked, jaw shifting and teeth grinding over one another audibly as he toyed with himself. No shame or embarrassment encumbered his movements. Unlike her, he wasn't afraid of what she couldn't and shouldn't see.

Their bodies were a mystery to her. But the complex machinations of it were almost familiar, in the smaller details. What she saw him toying with was a port of some kind. A panel. All like larger versions on any computer. _In-put cables…out-put…adapters…it couldn't really be so…simple, could it? They are machines…_

"No…you're just cheap." Backing up a step, she never took her eyes or weapon off of him and tried not to get distracted by odd thoughts.

"Whatever that would mean, at this moment." A light shudder ran over his frame as he dipped a talon tip into the port. And still his attention stayed on her, intensely measuring her and drinking in her uncertainty.

In response, she bared her teeth at him. "Oh, but you are."

"A cheap slut, perhaps. Just think," he twisted his head to the side, mockingly thoughtful, "thoughts of your blood all over me give me such pleasure, _Maggie._"

_So that's how you want to keep playing it? I won't take that bait. I already know my days are limited. _She sneered, "And who's to say I let you live through this if _I'm _not satisfied? Keep talking." She aimed the weapon again, not bluffing.

"Who is to say either of us will live to see the morrow? There is no telling." His words shouldn't have been so profound as they were meant to shake her. But instead they offered a prophetic warning that made her pause and look at him with a blank face…

Shaking off the suicidal thoughts that surely would consume her, she continued the game. "Touch yourself all over."

"Excuse me?" He paused and seemed generally puzzled. Which gave her more pleasure than his actions.

"Caress yourself like a lover would." _Like I had to._ Like he made her do.

He looked at her like she was an idiot, but she found she didn't care anymore. "I am."

Smirking, she spoke to him like he was a dimwitted child, "Not just there. Your thighs. Your sides. All over." _Should I draw a diagram?_

Barricade snorted, "I do not get off that way."

Greeting him with a feral smile, she found herself for the moment, enjoying putting him off so. "Maybe I do. Try both."

Belligerently he crooked his jaw, "I get off on simple things like the agony and misery of others…flesh bags are so complicated." His sigh was horribly melodramatic as he leant back against the wall and twirled dagger-like talons over his stomach. "You are disappointingly distracting."

"Good, I don't want you to have too much fun." And she didn't. Her goal wasn't for him to get off on her uncertainties. She wanted him miserable.

"The least I could get out of it is a decent overload." He made a sound like stifled laughter, "You certainly did."

_That BASTARD. _But she wouldn't react! She wouldn't give him that satisfaction of a well aimed hit. Fighting a blush of shame, she shifted the weapon, "I don't want you to have anything good. I want you as miserable as I was."

Still, he was too confident, too sure of himself. "Too bad, this is an incidental setback. Unfortunately for you, I have been forced to do worse things, and an hour, perhaps, of masturbation is the least I can do for the pleasure of getting to _keep you alive for days and days while you scream._" He shuddered in pure pleasure at the thought and cackled, grating voice trailing into the mocking laugh.

She wasn't moved by his verbal dart. _Like I'd let you…_ "Keep telling yourself that, sleeze. Whatever gets you off."

"How much control do you think you have? _Really_?" His claws toyed over the armor plating idly, catching the dim light in a eye-catching flash. He was disgusting and Maggie couldn't stop watching him when she didn't even want to see him anymore.

"Enough. I have enough. Stop talking, more fucking." His talk was wearing her down, slowly but surely and they both knew it. The weapon and her body was starting to feel so heavy with dread.

He laughed, soft and raspy and laden with pure ugliness. She heard death in his voice, evil and thick and vile. This monster was something she hated more than anything she'd ever hated in her whole life. She felt no flush of strength or justice as she watched him toy with himself, stick needle talons into his port and tickle the sensors within. It was all rather boring and she found her thoughts drifting to the after math and what she'd left undone in life. She had so much she'd never experienced or seen…but then, this madness she was in, well that was like something no one had been privy too, right? So was she privileged or just damned?

"How does it feel being at the mercy of a weak, human female?" She prodded for a reaction to get the thoughts, swarming like wasps, out of her mind.

"I am hardly at your mercy. The instant you hit me with a shot, I would be on you. Damaged, yes, but I would disarm you, beat you within and inch of your life, and we would both be on our way to heal." He said this so matter-of-factly, and what's more, he relished the thought.

The thought of him touching her made her teeth grind together, "Shut up."

He pounced on the raw nerve he'd struck, "Ooh, the truth hurts." He stopped to look at her, gaze drinking her in. "."

In those words she knew, _knew_ he wasn't going to give, to relent to her. He was just biding her time and trying to toy with her. She'd had enough of that. Enough! No more games, let him feel real pain since it was the only thing that he understood.

Snarling like a threatened dog, Maggie took aim and fired another round at him. This time at his chest and the exposed panel. _Hit him where it hurts._ In the close environment, he didn't have time to dodge the shot or block it. By happenstance, he reared back and took the round to his "stomach" and hissed and screeched in a loud squall that was like music to her ears.

"Truth hurts. Being shot hurts. It _all_ hurts. You are NOT in charge right now. So quit toying with me!" She knew she wasn't in charge of him. He was too large of a force for one human to try and control but that didn't stop the mad urge to try and beat him down.

He growled at her and dug at the wound, picking the remains of the bullet out. It made a small, coin-like sound as the spent slug hit the floor. "So wrong you are."

Both of them were backed up to a precipice they couldn't see but knew was there. Futility colored her petty words she didn't believe in, "Continue." This time she aimed and didn't pull the trigger.

More and more he started to resemble a cornered beast, showing the true bestiality underneath the metal surface. In that brief weakening, Maggie thrilled and died inside. _I'm not myself. What do I do? Where do I go?_ Words clipped, she didn't reflect the temerity and lost feeling roiling inside, "_Continue."_

"_Fuck you._"

That made her laugh. Once she'd had a lovely, charming trill but now the tone was unhinged like a broken piano chord being struck. "Oh…but you already did, remember?" She grinned manically in the face of his snarl that washed over her and spilled into the area. So desperate and she'd be the first to admit, yes, she was terrified and corned feeling herself. But she couldn't give into the fear, just the blinding madness that he'd led her into. "Are you afraid? What's wrong? Can't get anything up when a girl isn't cowering inside of you??"

The din of his anger was so incredibly loud, bouncing off the walls and filling her head disorienting her. Glossy black armor plates rattled against one another and the engine that was his body, snarled in hatred. His voice rose in volume and became thicker metallic, hard to decipher the words, "Maybe I cannot! Care to provide the aid, _Maggie_?"

Baring her teeth at him, she didn't even realize her hurt was displayed by the treacherous tear that pearled at the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek. Instead she screamed at him, "You're _pathetic! _Can't even jerk yourself off when I could! You didn't see me stopping no matter what!" She realized she was stronger than him, and harder.

The crescendo of their conflicting furies peaked as he lunged for her. Maggie's finger squeezed the trigger and fired off a shot for his face and those awful teeth even as her body lunged to the side. Her pulse hammered heavily in her throat and made breathing difficult.

The shot singed across his shoulder making him jerk as he landed on all fours and poised, looking for all the world, like a panther. Tension bled from him but he did not make a move towards her yet. As for her lunge, she'd landed on all fours as well, the gun under one hand. The both stared at each other, she through a tangle of blonde hair. _Why can't you just kill me? Why am I still alive?_ Sweat ran down her face and neck, mingling with the forgotten tear.

Guttural and soft, his voice sliced over her body, "Are you angry, _Maggie?_ Are you angry that you _cannot_ get me to do what you want?" Driving home his point, he snapped the sharks teeth at her making her flinch.

Gagging, she looked away from him and at the weapon underhand, choking back a sob. She had failed herself. Rasping, her voice was barely above a whisper, "No…I'm not angry. I don't expect anything from you. You're nothing…you're proven that."

"Break for me, Maggie. _Break._" His voice coaxed her into doing so. Just to give in and maybe it'd end now. The pain, the hurt, he'd maybe even let her live if she just-

Laughing bitterly, she smiled at him. "Fuck you, _Barricade._" And at that he lunged at her with a sharp shrill; a death song. She screamed, because she didn't want to die! Not by his hands and not here. Her body ran on autopilot, diving for the small trapdoor in the side of the warehouse wall, almost too small to see in the gloom, but she knew it was there. She'd at least been sane enough to plan an escape if nothing else and the door is already open for her, to slide through and down the garbage shoot. But her weapon, her life-saving weapon, was snagged by it's strap on the edge and hauled her up short in the tunnel with a harsh jerk.

Behind her, Barricade _roared_ after her and reached in, clawing for her. Talons flashed and stabbed at, trying to haul her back out. Pure panic had taken over her mind as she kicked and rolled over onto her stomach. The darting needle-point fingers couldn't be avoided and her back was met with a scalding hot scratch before she managed to wiggle free of the weapon's strap. Shoving away from him and the gun, she slid down the dark tunnel, trailing blood sluggishly behind her.

His voice, bellowing and reverberating down the tunnel, _inside of her bones_, followed her. _"MAGGIE! I will find you, Maggie! I will always be watching you!" _The only answer she had for such promises was thick sobs cloying out of her throat. She knew he'd eventually find her, hell, she'd never _lost_ him.

Landing in the dumpster, she didn't waste the time to lay there and feel the burning pain down her spine. She rolled over the side and hit the pavement running. Harsh staccato of breathing set the tune for the night as she fled. The ouroboros rolled over again and it was now her time to flee until the next cornered moment when they met face to face, teeth to diminutive teeth, and tried to break the cycle.


	3. Ignite

**Author's Note: Pop in Nightwish's Cadense of Her Last Breath and enjoy the end. Thanks for sticking with me this long.**

_Ignite: to set fire to something, or catch fire - to cause a strong emotion to arise or show itself in somebody_

The world was dying around her. Indrawn breath panting out in a ragged cadence was her symphony. Maggie Madsen was running for her life and her time was running out. A cheshire moon above measured her slip-stream of minutes she was wasting.

Pain kept a constant measured step with her as she fled through the darkened, wet streets. The clawed lines down her back trailed a torrent of crimson that lent a splash of color to the empty arena. Red, red. All was grey, black, and red. Like his eyes, those hellish lamps that seared at her from the shadows, keeping pace but not closing in just yet. But soon.

The maze of narrow alleys in between the warehouses she'd brought them to were the only buffer between them. Her tennis shoes skidded and slapped the ground as she ran, not in sheer panic, but with determination. The walls entombing her were just that: a urban tomb. He could reach her and would when he was done toying with her. After he'd winded her down to nothing and crushed the bit of resistance and spirit she had left.

From her left his voice lashed out like hidden blades, "Save one last breath for me, _Maggie._"

A black shadow strayed across her path, nearly tripping her. She shied away with a scream but the black cat bounded beyond her into the alleys before a sharp agonized yowl heralded it's mistake. Bile rose in her throat at the thought of what had become of it. Then, with a wet slap, the beast's hide still wet with it's hot blood, landed on the ground at her feet splattering her legs. She kept the horrified cry inside and moved on, over the dead animal.

_Right, across the grate, keep the river on your left and follow the…follow…oh god, I can't remember. Where is it?? _In her haste she was turned around and wasn't sure which direction she was running in. He kept goading her and pushing her towards the backs of buildings to hedge her in and each time she had to stray further away from the river and deeper into the labyrinth of alleyways she was only remotely familiar with. Would they find her body here? Strung out like a battlefield? Entrails decorating the walls and poles like tinsel. Her blond hair dyed red then rust as the blood dried and aged; the flies laying maggots in her-

_No. It won't come to that. I won't go out that way. I made sure of it. _She wouldn't be a victim on the local news. She wouldn't be his latest tally in a long list of victims surely everyone had forgotten but him.

A glimmer of hope cut through the darkness like dawn that was too many hours away for her. A docking shed that had seen better days and was more or less a shack leaning on the sloggy river. She'd been there briefly during a lunch break to find the layout for the supplies promised by Ironhide to be there. Afterward she'd never set foot back toward the place and had to rely on the Weapon's Specialists word that his own contacts had delivered their end of the promise per her instructions. If one item was out of place, she was dead.

Her voice cawed through the dark like a choked bird, "Barricade, for all that years of hunting, you can't even catch one human girl!" A persistent worry was that Barricade would guess her intent. That he knew of her plans within plans within desperate last ditch efforts. So she riled him further into a murderous rage. Mistakes were mad and she was as good as dead anyway.

He snarled behind her and the ground shook as he stomped hard where she had just fled. A scare tactic she was beyond being affected by. She just felt elation for getting to him. He wouldn't kill her quickly with a bullet she couldn't outrun.

Steps ahead of her that were narrow but short. Could she jump half of them? One way to find out. Two feet away from them, she felt a static laden jolt of his mouth behind her, _heard_ the mechanical tock of his jaw separating and working from his maw, opening it wider to bite. And leapt with the frightened ease of a deer. His mouth clanged shut behind her, snipping off a length of hair and the after waft of fear scenting the air like a heavy perfume.

Her feet slid on the aged wood and she would have regained her balance to climb the last step but for his clawed hand obliterating the wooden structure; more knives slicing through her calves and up the length of her thigh. By sheer happenstance she crashed through the door and into the dark building with a scream and lay beyond the threshold in a litter of splintered rubble that stuck in the fresh blood.

Through the doorway he stared at her, his snarling visage filling up the small frame like a satanic piece of art. For a moment, a freeze-frame of time held, they watched each other. She lay panting and holding back tears of pain and so many emotions one woman shouldn't have to experience at once. Red optics that lit up a face of jagged lines and hell drilled into her blue eyes clouded to a darker shade.

"Give up." The words were a simple request from him that sounded out of place in that frame, that body, this place. Like a board game they had been playing for too long in the night and they both just wanted to go to bed.

"I can't…anymore than you can."

"You are _not me._" And just like that, the peace was broken as his fist crashed through the wall, reaching for her. Before he could slide another lesson across her skin, she pushed herself away and crawled down the hall like a crippled calf. On her feet she found the shredded muscle on her right leg hanging by skin that burned in agonizing waves so terrible, she almost didn't feel the pain.

_Follow the hall…follow the hall…Ignore the sting…_She was making poor speed now but still gained a small distance while he clawed his way through and scrambled in after her, hunting on all fours like a dark panther. The sound of plaster and mortar against metal grated on her nerves along with the flare of burning pain from her legs that each step put pressure on. She gritted her teeth and leaned against the wall with one arm, fingers scratching over the surface.

At the doorway to the large storage room, she swayed and closed her eyes as her shoulder hit the door frame. Shaking fingers curled over a thick rope that hung nearby, almost as if to hold her up. The drive to fight was slipping away with her blood and the fleeing flood of adrenaline. With each beat of her heart, a new spike of pain bloomed behind her eyelids like fireworks. She could see herself sliding down the wall and giving up. Just stop breathing and then the pain would end. She would be free-

_**Agony unlike any she had endured before. **_A vicious scream ripped from her throat with enough intensity to permanently damage the voice box. Maggie was lifted up to the tips of her toes as the metal _thing_ spearing her through her gut moved and Barricade's voice centimeters behind her.

"_Found you._"

She couldn't speak, couldn't move without losing her breath to the pressure of that foreign object through her body. With dazed eyes, she looked down the length of her breast, past her navel, to the torrent of blood blooming through her shirt and the slim probe of metal that shredded her stomach muscles, organs, and her clothing. Around her waist, his fingers curved almost gently like large, metal spiders waiting to cushion her when she fell.

_Some…thing…his hands…weapon…_No coherent sentences formed as her scream tapered to sluggish mewls as she tried to figure out what he had impaled her on. Something on his hands? Didn't matter now…surely she was dying. She didn't have another scream left in her when he _bit_ her shoulder and crushed the joint and shredded the rotator cuff. The right arm hung uselessly by her side as he purred in satisfaction, the vibrations traveling through his teeth and heightening the damage and pain.

"This will continue for days…and I'll _enjoy _every scream, every spike in your heart, every tear you shed." He worked his jaw subtly, but it felt like a avalanche crushing over her as the teeth ripped and tore skin. She did scream. She did beg. And she did cry. Because no matter how strong her will was, she wasn't ready for this searing burn of a slow death.

"Want to know the irony, _Maggie?_ You spent so much time trying to get me off and now, my _sweet_, you are. Your pain is an opiate. _Your screams the caress of a lover_. " Laughter dripped from his voice like poison as her toes brushed the ground; he moved her around like a puppet by his mouth and that metal tool through her belly. She could feel the heat brushing off of him and didn't need to imagine how this sadism stirred up his body like any potent aphrodisiac.

The cold shock her body was settling into, except for the burning from the wounds, made her thoughts too slow to ponder such things at any rate. She just clung to the rope with her one remaining arm; fingernails digging into the hemp, the fibers slipping under her nails like garrote. Sweat trickled down her body to mix with the blood and it stung like any salt on a wound would but it was a trivial burn now.

She had no wise rejoinder to counter his words. No snub to throw at him with threadbare defiance. There was no defiance left. She was as weak as a kitten. The only action she had was to pull the rope in her hand as hard as she could. Unwittingly, Barricade aided her in this by seeing her small hand plucking on it and hauled her to the side with a chuckle like broken bones and glass. The rope pulled taught for a moment but one good jerk, that caused her to sob and him to quiver from headcrests to hocks, and the knot above them bound by the cord was pulled free. There was no time for him to react, drunk on his prize and totally spellbound by the tableau that was Maggie's defeat.

A cascade of ancient navy mark 2 anchors, crusted with rust, age-old barnacles, and dust swung down from their precarious perch…their position held only by a single knot and a pulley on a hemp rope that hung lax from Maggie's hand. The tangle of galvanized steel crashed into Barricade with the force of _several_ speeding cars and threw him off of his feet. Flukes once used to bite into the seabed, hooked into his armor with their sharp bills and tore or wedged tight. It was hard to say if he roared in agony or not, the din made by the falling weights drowned out everything in their path.

Sure to be crushed, Maggie was thrown free of the crushing weights when he was hit but did not escape damage. The tool he stabbed through her, made more damage going out and ripped the lining of her stomach in it's passing. Slowly but surely she was being eaten alive by her own digestive juices as she lay so close to him. The sour burn spread throughout her middle and made tears trek down her cheeks to pool under her face.

_Be dead…be dead…__**please die…**_ But her last hope was crushed so easily as a hand, almost indistinguishable from the tangle of sharp hooks of the anchors, stirred and grasped at the ground. An agonized keen felt through the floorboards they both lay on gave away his pain while he doggedly climbed out of the trap.

Maggie could do no more than try crawling away from him but her limbs didn't work properly. She watched as Barricade emerged from the anchors like a demon. His optics blinked fitfully, two on the side of his face crushed and ruined. He shook his head like a dog and the lens tinkled to the floor like gambling chips. Snarling madly, and looking every bit a rabid animal, he searched for her. His vox must have suffered damage as it clicked and skipped with each vocalization and his whole body shuddered.

"Bi-_srrkktch_-" He bit off the reply with a broken snarl as he finally found her. Her eyes slipped shut as he brought a missile that had somehow survived the weights, around to sight in on her. This was it. The end at last…

She flinched and coarsely cried out when she heard the munitions fire. No time for prayer or regret. But a sick course of fate was on her side and the missile went wide, striking the wall behind her with a concussive force that rolled her over onto her back, ruined the wall, and lit the aged timber on fire. Staring up at the ceiling and choking on the bile and blood that had forced itself up her throat in burning tandem with her gut, she ignored his fit of ire.

Anchors were flung aside with inhuman strength as Barricade jerked and screamed insults and slurred words, static noise, and pure black anger. And the world around them slowly crept toward an inferno. Stabbing his claws into the floor, he dragged himself towards her; legs twitching behind him in a connection that didn't want to work properly.

Sluggishly, Maggie turned away from the ceiling, away from him, and looked to the path of the fire. It burned slowly but unerringly around the room. The only place the fire seemed to avoid, as if sensing the volatile contents, was a corner nearby where a neat stack of fueled casks were stored under a tarp.

…_should…burn too…_ she thought with a soupy mind already fading into black. With a reserve she shouldn't have left, the battered and dying woman pushed herself up and onto her feet in front of Barricade's unbelieving gaze. He growled at her when she ignored him, so close by and greedily reaching. His claws ripped the sleeve from her useless arm and she grunted at the mild pull. Pain no longer registering on a normal level.

Step by slow step she walked to the fire, her vision making the burning dance in and out of focus. Like a moth to the flame, she found herself standing before a burning board and turned to look at Barricade. To see one last time, to perhaps understand what had made them come to this surreal point in their lives. Or maybe it was always this surreal for him. But she had been so normal and vibrant once. She didn't want to say anything but her mouth moved and her voice croaked out her last impart for him.

"Why…us?"

The Saleen's reaching hand stopped and twitched. The twin thumbs trembled in their poise before he dropped his hand and pushed himself up with both arms. The once proud creature was no less proud, but looked no more like a prime predator. His armor was dented and cracked. An anchor was stabbed deeply into his spine that he couldn't quite reach. His face was ruined beyond recognition and bright fluid splashed down his lines and mingled with her cooling organic blood on the floor. They were both not well off for ever having met one another and knew it.

"F-_skrrh_-ini-_scch _it." The side of his jaw hung crookedly, unhinged or broken but he didn't need the mandible to speak a guttering, hiccupping reply. On his feet, he swayed just as she had and stared at her, hand still twitching with the rabid urge to destroy and maim.

It was the look of him, the ridiculous request, like _this was still a game_ that made her laugh. Maggie stood next to the burning pillar and shuddered a coughing titter that burned every inch of her, like the fire nearby. The visceral innards in her body jiggled as one arm clutched her ruined middle and _laughed_ and cried for all that they had done. For this stupid ending they had brought upon themselves. That he had started and was allowing her to finish.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, for she'd never really stopped crying once she'd entered this building, as she reached for the burning log and pushed. The burn didn't even register or the smell of her skin singeing as she leaned with the last strength she had and toppled the board onto the pile of fuel in the corner. Deed done, the last check mate in place, she dropped her hand and shuffled toward her nemesis and brother in dying for one last standoff. The thought of running was too tiring for the both of them.

The whoosh of the crates igniting filled the silence as they gazed at one another, not unlike two beings in mortal love or hatred. And really, didn't the two emotions cross boundaries at times? Her hair lifted on a sudden breeze and the silken strands of gold tickled her face as embers from the burning ceiling drifted lazily around the two like burning snowflakes. One even landed on her cheek but she didn't brush it away. The same embers reflected in his armor like fireflies in the dark.

Barricade smiled a broken, ugly grimace that bloomed into a laugh so real that it took Maggie a moment to place the sound for what it was. _Mirth. Amusement. Weary, deranged abandonment. They were finished. The Ouroboros rolled over and devoured itself. _

It took all of his concentration to say a complete sentence, even if the sound was clipped and mechanical, "." And it was, it truly was a game well played even if they had stumbled along the way and Maggie had forgotten the rules.

She smiled at him and their world burned bright as the warehouse exploded with enough force to light up the night like day. A false dawn had come at last. Ironhide had it wrong. Maggie had been a fighter after all.


End file.
